Today we’ll look at trees in Tulare County’s Mooney Grove. Just trees, no talk.
Tomorrow we’ll visit some oddities and unusual pieces and points of interest in Tulare County’s Mooney Grove Park. Many things can fit in a 100 acre park.
Today is bridge day on our Mooney Grove Park tour.
Tomorrow we’ll look at trees.
More photos of Mooney Grove Park, where I took a walk each day after I finished working on the murals on the Tulare County Museum.
Speaking of the museum, let’s focus on that treasure today. I’ve included pictures of the Pioneer Village behind the museum (entered through the museum) and 3 photos inside the museum.
Tomorrow, we’ll look at a bridge, not my favorite bridge (Oak Grove), but a simpler bridge in a true oak grove.
This is a virtual tour. Enjoy it from the comfort of your easy chair. No viruses to be spread this way.
Mooney Grove Park is 100 acres of about 50 types of trees. The Valley Oaks (quercus lobata) make up about half of the tree population. The land was sold to Tulare County in 1909, with the agreement that only dead or dying Valley Oaks could be removed. Meanwhile, many new trees have been planted, a few of which I recognized, some that I learned about, some that surprised me, and all of which contributed to the specialness of this interesting and beautiful place.
It helped that I was working there during March, my second most favorite month. The grounds were green and many trees were in bloom.
Stop talking, Central Calif. artist, because we want to see some photos.
Okay. Photos. No more talk. Just pictures of a beautiful park in spring.
Any questions? To be continued Monday.
What passes for winter in Three Rivers would make a Minnesotan weep. On Trail Guy’s birthday, we went to a foothill area of Sequoia National Park that most visitors don’t know about. It feels like trespassing, but it isn’t.
We parked at the Rec Building near Ash Mt. He said, “We had a lot of good parties there.” I replied, “Yep, and a lot of boring ones too”. This is the place where I used to attend retirement parties for Park people that I didn’t know until I figured out that attendance wasn’t mandatory. The building is long, narrow, and very loud.
Next area was a boneyard of equipment and non-photogenic stuff, then the corrals.
I appreciate the signage at the corrals. (Cowboy humor reminds me of Cowboy Bert. It’s been a little over a year since we lost him. Heavy sigh.)
We stayed on the road until we got to this little creek, appropriately named Sycamore Creek. From there, we took another road that led down to who knows where. Trail Guy said, “Do you think we can make it back up this?” I said, “It might be too hard, but we’ll have to do it anyway.”
He noticed that thing in the tree and said, “There’s a bar – I wonder what it’s for?” I said, “You want a beer? Or maybe you need a lawyer?” Turns out it was some sort of a microphone with a solar powered box, maybe to record animal noises. I don’t think we accidentally uttered anything subversive.
We saw a few mules doing what mules do. Horses too. This is a horse. (Thank you, Trail Guy, for straightening me out.)
I found this round thing and decided it must be a tuit. Might come in handy.
While Trail Guy poked around in the boneyard piles of old Park equipment, I studied oak branches, preparing for my next mural.
This might make a nice painting, although I never know quite how to handle the gray matter of leafless oak trees massed together.
This might be a better view.
There I go again, turning every outing into a business trip. That’s the way it is when one is an artist.
Mountains and citrus are two things that make Tulare County special. Having grown up in an orange grove (don’t worry, we lived in a house, and thank you for your concern) with an almost daily view of the mountains, this scene is one of my favorite things about living here. The combination is a regular source of inspiration for my art; although I don’t paint it very much, I want to. (It isn’t all that popular in Mineral King. . . fancy that!)
We* went looking for the same view in order to see the detail more clearly. Although we didn’t find the same exact viewpoint, the day was clear and I got enough information to complete the painting.
We’ve had snow in the high country, so I changed that most distant ridge to a snowy situation.
I think it is finished now. Time will tell. I might just keep getting ideas about how to improve it. I might not want to finish it. I might want to hang it in our dining area.
*Trail Guy and I, not the royal “we” or a mouse in my pocket.
While I was in Georgia last spring, when people asked me where I was from, I was very specific and replied, “CENTRAL California; no one knows about us, no one cares, but we feed the world.” The unspoken part was “I am NOT from Los Angeles or The Bay Area, so assume nothing about me”.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (just a euphemism, don’t worry, I haven’t moved), I am thinking about what to paint on those large canvases.
As I think about my self-ascribed descriptor, “The Central California Artist”, I want to be painting things that truly represent Central California, specifically Tulare County.
Not only does Tulare County have the largest trees by volume (Sequoia Gigantea), we also have the largest of the American oak trees, our valley oaks (quercus lobata).
All-righty then!
Don’t be afraid. I can do this!!
P.S. Did you get my 2019 calendar, “A Touch of Color”? This tree was Miss February. It was a horizontal rectangle, but the painting will be a square. I untangled the branches in the drawing so it will serve as a helpful guide in the painting.
Say what? “Hume Lake wildflowers”, I said! It is still the Sierra, and I love wildflowers, as you know. And sometimes I go to the mountains in places that aren’t Mineral King. It’s permissible.
I stayed with my old friend at her cabin. It was charming, and it has electricity and even a teevee with a DVD player! There are 2 cabins nearby where her cousins are, including my new friends from Georgia. But I came here to tell you about wildflowers today.
There we were, just walking along a road above Hume Lake, when I almost got whiplash, or flew over the handlebars, or went a little nutso. Lots of Mariposa Lilies, and then BOOM!
That was completely thrilling! The Mariposa Lily that I know is on the title page of the white chapter in my book. When I got home to my books, I found 2 mentions of a different type of Mariposa Lily that occasionally comes in red or purple, but no photos, and I had to read to the bottom of a couple of boring descriptions to find them. (I hope my book isn’t boring to you.)
Remember that I went down to Georgia (no, I’m not the devil) to take a plein air painting workshop from Laurel Daniel? The goal was to be able to do plein air painting in Mineral King.
I was a little nervous, having waited 3 months to attempt the techniques again. Mineral King feels so public, probably because it is, and I was glad there weren’t many people around yet. Still, I set up my easel in an obscure place, and remained invisible in the shade despite my trusty red backpack.
The plan was to paint Empire (the rock outcropping, not the highest part of the ridge) with a few cabins below.
Here is the finished piece, dry and scanned after I got back home. (It was tricky business finding a place to put the painting to dry in our 400 square foot cabin, but we are always innovative with the limited space.
The whole time I wondered what Laurel would say, and tried to remember some of the things she worked on with me. There is probably too much detail in this for her, but I am the boss of my painting now.
Today I am in route to Florida, unable to post, so here is something that happened on Saturday. Mineral King is a summer place, but occasionally we visit in winter. (I probably won’t be able to post tomorrow either, so we’ll just have to bravely soldier on for a bit.)
The flowers were fantabulous along the lower portion of the road, but we didn’t stop for photos except at the bridge. It takes a long time to pull the Trackster up the road with the Botmobile, and it takes a long time to putt-putt up the road in the Trackster, so we did not lollygag.
The Trackster ride is rough, loud and smelly. But, it beats a snowmobile, particularly when you have to go up and over downed trees or across dry pavement. (You know the ride is rough when it makes the Botmobile feel luxurious by contrast.)
Our friends were already up the hill, and it was great fun to surprise them. Trail Guy and I did a bit of token cross-country skiing. Mostly we were just in awe of the vast winterness of the place.
